


SHIELD Needs to Read Local Newspapers More Frequently: Or, How Shawn Spencer And Tony Stark Probably Should Stop Making Fury Twitch Nervously (But Admittedly Never Will)

by deltacrow



Series: How Tony Stark and Shawn Spencer Are a Volatile And Highly Dangerous Duo, Not To Mention a Threat to National Security (Should They Choose To Be), And Somehow Are Friends. [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Psych, The Avengers (2012 movie)
Genre: This is probably really OOC, and im really sorry for that too, how do tag, im really sorry at how long this took, in mildly canonical order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:49:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltacrow/pseuds/deltacrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An elongation of Part One, with more from the Psych!verse than earlier. Not IM3 or season 7 compliant because it hasn't been written yet.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>Shawn finds his big lead on a partially cloudy day in the Psych office after the first Yin case. (He won't know there's more for a while now, and in hindsight it should be quite obvious. Shawn's just glad its over, for now.) He has a styrofoam bowl now devoid of pineapple-- cut courtesy of one Burton Guster, as he is still in control of Shawn's kitchen knives, prescription medication, and belts-- and throwing pieces at the trash can when he realizes something Tony told him, something about trajectory and point of origins and something really, really important.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	SHIELD Needs to Read Local Newspapers More Frequently: Or, How Shawn Spencer And Tony Stark Probably Should Stop Making Fury Twitch Nervously (But Admittedly Never Will)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Superheroes and pineapples in Santa Barbara](https://archiveofourown.org/works/888287) by [amlago](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amlago/pseuds/amlago). 



> Finally have an upd8 done and this is mostly Shawn's views of what happens in iron man/ avengers because somehow that's all I could think of to write. Occasionally there's some Psych!verse, but... I'm sorry about how long this took-- but hey, it's here. hooray! :3
> 
> Based loosely off of Amlago's idea of "wouldn't it be fun if Tony and Shawn were friends?" So here I am with my ninja clan. Ninja clan, here we stand.
> 
> Skipped IM3 and S7 because reasons. Also because I've dicked around long enough with this. Do not own characters, settings, etc. (wouldn't have to write fanfics if i did.)

It's a dreary day in Santa Barbara when Shawn Spencer notices the case on the news. Channel 7 does an excellent job focusing on the police reports, while 11 is fabulous at digging up footage from every corner of everywhere. He'd suspect that someone was sleeping with the head of security for that footage if the weatherman and lead anchor weren't making bedroom eyes at each other all the time. (It's sickening, really-- Shawn's never, in his wildest dreams, ever wanted to see someone else's lust from this close up. It's mildly invasive.)

So Shawn, being the good Samaritan he is-- _really, such a classic case of_ quid pro quo, _doesn't anyone_ read _anymore_ \-- calls it in. He's expecting the guy to be arrested, receiving a pat on the back, maybe a plaque, and a check to cover his shitty apartment and to go back to his existence.

He, instead, is forced to pretend he's a psychic in order to get out of being arrested for telling the truth.

In hindsight, this was a long time coming.

Also in hindsight: the irony of the situation-- lying to cover up the truth so he's not arrested for lying-- is not lost on Shawn.

He really should have kept his mouth shut around Tony. He would still be babysitting the man now.  
\--- ---

So, the kidnapper-murderer turns out to actually be the father. Why the fuck not. Fathers tend to ruin everything. Childhood, case in point, right?

"Don't expect me to cover for you again, pal." The car door slams behind Henry, and he pulls himself together again before looking at Shawn again. "I'm not okay with this, Shawn," he states, glowering through the rusty truck door. "Any of it."  
Says the man who just lied to Chief Vick about Shawn's "gift". Maybe it was just to keep Shawn--or, more like it, Gus-- out of jail--? Wait. _The paper on the passenger's seat is about me-- collecting for blackmail, or--_  
Shawn's lips twist upward, before turning into a vague nervous tick. "I don't expect you to be, Dad."  
Henry fires up the dilapidated pickup and it putters away.  
 _Don't expect me to cover for you again, pal_ echoes in Shawn's mind. Guess it's time to call in a favor.  
\--- ---

 _"You've reached the mobile of Anthony Stark. Sir is currently unavailable; please leave a message."_  
"Skynet? It's Shawn. Is Tony really not around, or are you guys double-bluffing me?"  
 _"At this point, I would simply be covering for Sir by saying he's not available; the phrase you're looking for, then, would be 'bluffing', if we were to continue the poker metaphor, Mr. Spencer."_ Leave it to JARVIS to make Shawn feel like an idiot in the most delightfully polite way possible.  
"I've heard it both ways." Shawn pauses, and runs a hand through his hair. "But no, really, is he actually not available?"  
 _"I'm afraid he's not. Would you like to leave a message, Mr. Spencer?"_  
Shawn starts pacing, painfully aware that this will be the second major law he's broken this week. Hindering a police investigation and now fraud, is this really his life? "Actually... you're sorta the man I needed to see, JARVIS. Could you take a dip into the SI account of mine and spring for the office space-- third from the left on the local paper listings."  
 _"Certainly, Mr. Spencer. May I ask why?"_  
"Long story."  
It's dropped, because apparently the AI Tony built, ironically, understands social cues better than Tony himself. _"The lease for said office space requires two signatures. I'll assume to put it on Sir's card?"_  
Shawn shakes his head-- he'd rather not get caught in Tony's brand of crazy. Especially not with Stane still doing... Stane-y things. Yeesh. "Put it on Gus' card. Maybe throw his name there too. Or yours," Shawn adds, almost as an afterthought. "Wouldn't say no to Skynet on my lease. But Gus' card."  
\--- ---  
Its maybe a year and eight months in from the founding of Psych when Shawn gets a call, in the middle of investigators staring at a dead body and the Psych duo working out Shawn's next "psychic" outbreak. _Star Spangled Man_ rings out, startling officers and first responders alike. It was a bit of a joke with Shawn and Tony- Captain America had the first integrated unit in World War II, and both he and their soldier boy were ridiculously self-sacrificial. Lassiter was the first to recover, rounding on Shawn, barking, "Spencer!"  
Shawn sidled by him, excusing himself with a look towards Gus and an "excuse me, Lassie, but I need to take this".  
"Shawn Spencer, what toots your horn today?"  
 _"Shawn."_ Rhodey's voice cracks over the speaker, and a cold, numbing feeling creeps through Shawn's veins. That's fear, and Rhodey is never, ever scared. _"He's gone. Tony--"_ Rhodey takes a deep, shuddering breath, steadying himself, before continuing on. _"Tony's gone."_  
"What? What do you mean, he's _gone_? People don't just up and vanish, dude," and Shawn knows he's too loud, but it's impossible, and then a thought occurs to him, but his mouth's already too far gone-- "and you're in Afghanistan, how could you even know that before I do-- _No._ He's. No! _He was with you, there? And now he's gone."_ Shawn realizes, dimly, that the world's a little fuzzy now, and his eyes are itchy; someone's hands are on his back, and he's vaguely aware of Gus in one ear, and Rhodey, a normally well-oiled machine, slowly breaking down in the other. Shawn is hustled towards the Blueberry, hands on his back still rubbing small circles, and Shawn takes a page out of Henry's interrogation manual-- _"either intimidate him to tears, or make them comfortable, and you'll get everything a man knows and then some; now listen up--"_ and snaps at Rhodey, voice quavering, "report, Lieutenant Colonel!"  
Rhodey, out of reflex, pulls himself together at those simple words, and begins his report. _"There was a Stark weapons presentation for the Jericho missile at 1000 hours this morning..."_  
Shawn buckles in quietly to the Blueberry as words like "land mine" and "altercation" wash over him. Gus starts up his Echo's engine and the two drive off from the scene, leaving the police baffled: their lead psychic doesn't know any soldiers, not that they know of. Especially not that high up.

More to it, they've never seen him so... emotional. Detective O'Hara will later, quietly, use the word lost, one of the first responders will use vulnerable, and their small circle of investigators will nod tersely. Those are the best word to describe him, for the moment.  
\--- ---  
Rhodey finishes, and the three sit in tense silence- one phone call has left Shawn more subdued, quietly violent, than Gus has ever seen him. This tops his parents' divorce and his arrest at eighteen-- and the latter sent him gallivanting across the country for years.  
"Shawn, you won't," Gus begins, but his words seem hollow, and he's choking on them, stumbling over himself. He licks his lips-- how did they get so dry?-- and repeats, firmer, "Shawn, you won't do anything stupid. All decisions must be vetted by me, so you don't _do_ something stupid."  
Shawn doesn't acknowledge Gus, doesn't even realize Gus has spoken. Rhodey and Shawn are still on the phone, both at their home bases, across the world from each other. "Get me any relevant files you can find on it from your superiors. Any debriefing packets, satellite or ground images, anything and everything. Send it to me via Carlton Lassiter of the SBPD." Every word is giving Shawn a maniac edge, where eggshells are to sturdy, too clean, to be around his mind. He's not going to stop until this business is done, over with, whoever's gone that's got Shawn Spencer, fake psychic and secretly real genius extraordinaire for the Santa Barbara Police Department, feeling vulnerable will be so thoroughly found they won't realize they were missing.  
 _"Understood,"_ Rhodey replies. _"And Shawn?"_  
"Yeah?"  
 _"Thanks. But if you ever use that tone again, I'll get JARVIS to blacklist you or something."_  
He doesn't use physical threats because it hits too close to home right now. They both get that. Despite this-- or maybe because of it, Shawn will never really know-- he lets out a hollow chuckle through a tight smile and just shoots back, "understood," and hangs up.  
Shawn doesn't cry. He's got work to do, with no time to cry. He's on a case, and _when you're on a case, Shawn,_ Henry always said, _the case is everything._  
\--- ---  
Being in the cave is, quite literally, Hell on Earth. Not just because there's no running water or privacy or safety or amenities Tony's gotten used to, oh, no: it's all of those things. But it's also the fact that, his last act, ever-- the Swan Song of Tony Stark-- is going to be knowing he's building someone else's death, and it's going to be someone important. Not to the country, or the world. It'll be the Rhodey to someone's Tony, or the Pepper to someone's Tony, or the Gus to someone's Shawn.  
 _"You could've done better," Shawn remarks, out of the blue one day. He is tossing a rubber band ball to Dummy, that heap of useless, loveable trash. Tony would like to protest that no, he can't, because he's the endgame. He's the genius that everyone wants their genius to be, and he's ten, twenty years ahead of everyone else. He opens his mouth and asks what Shawn means- or as much as he can get out, considering his mouth is holding onto a few screws and a wrench he needs in a minute and a half. "Not... weapons," Shawn starts to say, but the memory just repeats itself, endlessly. "You could've done better," Shawn remarks, out of the blue one day..._  
His last act will be knowing he could've done better.  
"So, this is an important week for you, eh, Stark?" Yinsen replies, and in that moment, Tony knows what he's going to do.  
He's going to do better.  
\--- ---  
Shawn doesn't technically accept the case. At best, he's being handed documents that would be treason to accept from anyone other than Rhodey. Naturally, the Psych agency is not getting any compensation for their work. And there's still a small matter of eating and paying bills.  
So Shawn does what he does best. He lies, and gets cases, and acts as he usually acts: cheerful and ridiculous in the face of everything. His coffee and artificial stimulant intake, meanwhile, is off the fucking charts and keeps climbing.  
His Red Bull intake, it seems, had Red Bull problems.  
Insomnia from life also doesn't seem to be helping. Every case-- every photo, every blood stain, impossible position, bullet casing, wound, _everything_ \-- starts haunting his thoughts and enters his dreams until it's not faceless people he's reading, it's the people he interacts with every day: it's the mailman, his neighbor Glenn and his fiancee Lucy, it's the crossing guard for the charter school three blocks east of the station; it's his dad, Jules, Gus, the Chief, Tony, Pepper. He can't look people in the eye because he's seen them _die_ and knows every detail of their deaths in the most intimate, _horrifying_ way possible.  
(Lassie can, apparently, take care of himself, even in Shawn's twisted and terrifying subconscious. So, then, can Rhodey. It's a small favor that he's not questioning.)

_"This is the mobile of one Anthony Stark; please, leave a message for Sir."_

"JARVIS? It's Shawn."

_"Mr. Spencer. You should... already know about--"_

"Yes, JARVIS, calling for you, bud. I already know, but... how are you holding up?"

_"I... Not... as well as I should be."_

"Tell me about it?"  
\--- ---

Shawn finds his big lead on a partially cloudy day in the Psych office after the first Yang case. (He won't know there's more for a while now, and in hindsight it should be quite obvious. Shawn's just glad its over, for now.) He has a styrofoam bowl now devoid of pineapple-- cut courtesy of one Burton Guster, as he is still in control of Shawn's kitchen knives, prescription medication, and belts-- and throwing pieces at the trash can when he realizes something Tony told him, something about trajectory and point of origins and something really, really important.

There are plenty of close-ups of the ground, all at different angles, but there's one he's looking for-- the aerial one of the area. _If the missile came from here,_ he thinks, stabbing a sticky finger at the glossy finish, _and... the shrapnel hit here, and here and here... and over there too, then... maybe..._ he pulls up other pictures, staring at blood stains and how the dribbles without smears means that someone got up and didn't step in their own blood, close enough to the ground and without other pools suggesting there was anything running down a leg to suggest a chest wound, _but he's running so non-lethal, when is that even non-lethal, never, but--_ there, there's the pool, there, that suggests he was there for awhile and the smearing here meant he was dragged away, and then it stops, so he was brought onto something else, a car or truck or transportation-- _someone must have checked to see if he was alive, otherwise he would have been left there, no reason to hold onto a corpse, it slows you down; slow is the enemy, especially in guerilla warfare-- no..._

Shawn has maybe 6 minutes on his phone. It'd take him five times as long to get in contact with Rhodey, no matter what, whereas JARVIS and Pepper need a full explanation that 6 minutes won't let him give. The police department have no idea about his connections and he'd like to keep it that way for now. His eye settles on one of the many photos of he and Gus, but they've swapped shirts in this photo, and are holding bags of Halloween candy they bought at CVS and watching reruns of _Supernatural_ , and it hits Shawn. Duh.

He picks up the phone and hits 1. It rings for twenty-three seconds. "Gussy, old pal, old friend of mine, I need to borrow your phone. Make a call or two."  
\--- ---

The fiasco at the board meeting-- otherwise known as his call to Pepper-- is reported. Transcripts (with his name redacted upon request, Shawn notes with relief) are actually provided, and read out on national television. Henry comes by later that day and claps a hand to Shawn's shoulder. "I don't know how you managed that one, kid," he states. Were he anyone but Henry, and Shawn anyone but himself, the but _I'm proud of you_ would have been spoken.

Then something explodes out of a mountain range in Afghanistan, and Shawn sees this while at a diner and almost breaks down.

 _It has to be Tony,_ he'll think wildly. _But it wasn't all that wild,_ hindsight will supply, _was it?_  
\--- ---

It's a later that he gets a call from Pepper-- it comes in on the SBPD phones, Lassie's specifically, because Shawn and JARVIS have been calling each other incessantly and also because JARVIS must be a sadistic fucker, forwarding calls to Shawn through Lassie ( _who now resembles more of a fish than his namesake, for shame, Lassieface_ )-- and he's already wearing a toothy, fake grin when he makes grabby hands towards the Head Detective's phone. "This would be Shawn Spencer, resident Psychic for the SBPD and purveyor of fine Shakespearean insults, how may I help you?"

Her voice crackles with unshed tears and crappy cell connections. _"He's coming home, Shawn; Shawn, he-- he's coming home."_  
It was something he saw coming, since the report on CNN that he desperately wanted to be Tony. But it doesn't stop his face from softening into a real grin, and for the world to get slightly fuzzy again, too. "Clearly, we need a party. Mind if Gus tags along?"

The station will try puzzling this one out, too-- why someone who has no vendetta against Carlton or Shawn has the sour Head Detective's cell number, and what could possibly have broken their lead consultant, _again_. In a better direction, though, McNab mumbles, and they all nod tersely again. Lassie just wonders, silently, what _Virginia Potts_ could have possibly wanted with _fucking Spencer_ , and what could have possibly been said that made him so quietly happy.  
\--- ---

Shawn borrows Gus, the Blueberry, and his wallet to buy a "don't get shingles or scurvy while recovering from being held hostage by terrorists" fruit basket of pineapples, apples, oranges, and blueberries. Gus then demands a stop at his place, for B-list movies and popcorn bags, while Shawn insists a trip to his apartment for a clean change of clothes. He fully intends to badger Gus into a trip back to his house for a belt, when Gus opens the glove compartment and hands him a spare.  
"Scary Sherry case?"

It is a testament to either Gus' patience with all things Shawn or his good mood, because he doesn't even think of strangling Shawn for a) dredging that nightmare backup, and b) _leaving him alone, weaponless, in the first place._  
Odes could be written about his restrain, really.  
\--- ---

_"Cried for your boss while he was gone, I see."_

_"Tears of joy. Finding a new job in this market is impossible."_

Tony pulled into the car stiffly-- imprisonment, fighting in suits of armour, a jaunt through the desert, and heading into middle age is killing his joints. Shutting the door sounds like an ultimatum; pulling away is like a death knell, and it takes all he has to stare at the floor quietly, _try not to draw attention to yourself,_ when Pepper touches his shoulder lightly. He jerks to the side hands flying to behind his head, to see Pepper, face tight and pained, pulling away. "Tony?"

He realizes that the action is foolish, and slowly lowers his hands. Pepper wouldn't hurt him, and Rhodey is right behind the car in a military entourage. Neither would Obie, in front of him in the car-- that's the man who's been there through everything, his parents' funeral, his first business venture. Pepper takes this as her call to continue. "Shawn helped. He... he helped. A lot. He's coming by with Gus. Unless you...?"

Obadiah looks at the two of them quizzically. "Shawn? Gus? Tony, who are they? I wasn't aware you had friends outside of Rhodes and Ms. Potts." He pauses, and hastily adds, "Not-- not like that! I mean--"

"No, you're right. Sort of. You hired Shawn when he saved your ass in Miami. Then he was--let go, yeah, that's what I'm looking for-- he was let go." A curious look comes over Stane's face, flashing like a lightning bug on a summer afternoon- bright, but you'd never see it unless you were looking. Tony ignores it; Obie must feel bad that he let Shawn go if he was able to find Tony. "Gus is a friend of his." Tony turns his attention back to Pepper, demanding "a cheeseburger, you have no goddamn idea how much I need a cheeseburger right now, damn all consequences; and a press conference-- you know I hate them, you really do, but I need this, Pep, please," the last part sounding suspiciously like pleading. Tony will deny ever pleading, ever-- there is no force on earth, short of The Cave, that would make him admit to pleading. (Because Tony already knows, now that he's stateside and allowed to be scared in hindsight, that his three month stint there is ample fodder for psychiatric help, never mind nightmares. He also knows he'll never, ever bring himself to talk about it in depth. Not even with Pepper or Rhodey. Shawn's out of the question: he'll make a few educated guesses and demand answers because all geniuses, no matter what field, lack tact.)  
"Also, I need to call Shawn."

Pepper shakes her head fondly. "Call Guster. He'll not only answer but also has minutes to answer _on._ "  
\--- ---

Shawn for once breaks precedence and actually calls his father with real news. "Do you remember the time after you arrested me where I went gallivanting across the country like I was Steve Martin, minus Shawn Candy except I wasn't home for Thanksgiving that year?"

  
Henry sighs into the phone, and Shawn can practically see his father massaging the area between his eyebrows, his forehead crumpling up in distaste. _"How could I forget? You were only gone, contacting Gus only once every blue moon for, what, three years?"_

"C'mon, Dad, it wasn't that bad--"

Silence is telling, his dad used to say. Oh, boy, is it.

"Okay well the thing is, the last job I got was kind of an accident and my... Jesus Christ, no, okay, anyway I could phrase that just wouldn't end well."

 _"I can see that,"_ Henry snorts. _"Do I need to be worried, or can I go back to suspicious resentment of my only son in my twilight years?"_

"No, Dad, it's just, I was something of a babysitter for, uhh, well... I sort of accidentally became a live-in nanny for Tony Stark."  
This silence is less telling. Shawn takes it as a cue to barrel onward with his awful explanations. "They found him. Gus and I are going to a small "welcome back, please tell me you're taking this mildly normally and have developed PTSD or something, not that we'd wish that on anyone" party. Me, Gus, his assistant, and his military liaison." He doesn't breathe so much as he waits for a heartbeat to pass before mentioning, "I did a bit of consulting work in the beginning. Confidential shit I really shouldn't have seen. Rhodey pulled a few strings," he added, something of an afterthought.

 _"Shawn, not to be rude, but_ why, _exactly, are you telling me this?"_

  
Shawn blinks for a second, and actually thinks about Henry. Why, exactly, has he called Henry about this? That's all Class-A confidential stuff there, and here he is, the passenger's seat of the Blueberry and on the phone with his estranged cop father. "I think..." _I think I wanted you to be proud of me,_ he wants to say. He replaces it with "I think I'm not entirely sure."  
Henry chuckles. He heard it, plain as day anyway. _"Proud of you, kid. Still never bailing you out ever again, but I'm proud of you."_ Henry pauses as a quiet revelation creeps up on him. _"So that's how you did it. I had my theories."_  
The call is cut short abruptly, but that's all Shawn ever wanted to hear.  
\--- ---  
The party is great. Or as great as a homecoming from terrorists can be, when the only man Tony could trust is dead because of him. He’s dead, and that was the plan all the fuck along.

It’s going to be a long night. Tony can tell that much, throwing up the chunks of pineapple and its sweet and acidic juice.

It’s going to be a long, long, _long_ night.  
\--- ---

Tony is one of the only people not targeted by Yin or Yang, and that brings no small relief to Shawn. They've managed to keep their friendship mostly a secret, because if their lives (a superhero and a private detective that apparently had Psycho stalkers in as many senses of the word as possible, the irony) are anything to go by, it’s that weak people get targeted and strong people have all sorts of weaknesses.

Shawn is not targeted by Vanko or Hammer, and that is no small miracle on both ends of that bargain, again. Because if Tony Stark has one wonderful flaw-- not just any flaw, but a breathtaking, marvelous flaw-- it’s that he’s overly possessive about anything his. Because how much of anything is really his, and how much was once his father’s? Shawn is his: his friend, his confidant.

But that’s neither here nor there yet, because Tony’s dying from the palladium and the suit and Shawn’s up to his eyeballs in old family enemies and his girlfriend has had enough of him and his goddamn enemies, the ones he _No, Abigail, I didn’t know they existed,_ and can’t either of them _catch a break?_

Shawn’s snapping in his own way. He’s taking on case after case, lighthearted jokes becoming acerbic barbs, poking and prodding at any and every old wound he can find. And because he’s Shawn Spencer, fake psychic and real detective, he can find old wounds like shark after blood.

Tony’s also breaking into thousands of jagged pieces, piercing and tearing at everything he’s worked so hard to achieve. He falls back on alcohol, because why not? It’s not like it’ll kill him any faster than the palladium will. Somewhere in his stupor, he gives up a suit to Rhodey. (Not without a fight, though, because the suit is his, and no amount of alcohol will change ingrained behavior.) And, his best decision yet, he signs the company off to Pepper. (He has JARVIS leave his notes with Shawn. He’s the only one Tony would trust to both understand them and not fuck them up completely.)  
\--- ---  
They have another party when Shawn gets out of the hospital for getting shot and _still outwitting the assailants while bleeding to death_ and at that point, it’s Gus, Shawn, Henry, and Tony. Tony, Henry and Shawn give each other funny looks, but it’s Shawn and Tony who give each other the smug smiles, and Gus and Shawn who give each other the pained looks.

Gus is only mildly jealous at the smiles and looks: but only mildly, because it’s an inside joke, sure, but the inside joke is that someone tried to kill you and almost succeeded, would have if not for sheer tenacity.

Tony is more than a little jealous because those pained looks are because Shawn's wound is acting up and he can show weakness in front of his friends and newly-unestranged father. It’s something that was almost literally beaten out of him as a child, and here Shawn is, giving and taking these looks so freely-- and there Henry is, watching and not jumping in with macho-man garbage.

Pineapple tastes less acidic. Still trying to crawl its way up everyone’s throats, but the feeling burns less.  
Henry gives Tony a look, before clapping Tony on his mildly-incognito’d shoulder. “Shawn mentions you, sometimes,” he says quietly, as Tony’s making gestures of leaving. Shawn is passed out, Gus is playing babysitter, and Henry is playing host for the night.  
Tony is genuinely confused: “Does he?”  
Henry gives a dry smile. “Gotta admit, you’re different... in person. Than you are in the papers.” Tony snorts at that, but it does not deter Henry, who simply says, “you drink less, in private. Reporters are that bad,” he adds, knowingly. “Try them when you've got no leads and bodies keep turning up-- and you know it’s one guy. Then you’re really in for a ride.”  
“I don’t actually think I want to,” Tony replies, eyes widening in mock-horror. The _but I have_ between them is never spoken, but in that moment, Henry’s face blanks, the only acknowledgement to the fine print being a slight widening of the pupils, a bit of a nostril flare. He claps Tony’s shoulder again, and says, “why don’t you come over for Thanksgiving this year.”  
It’s an order. They’re all still overlooking the fact that Tony’s exhibiting the symptoms of terminal cancer patients-- the ones who know they’re dying, and simply cannot muster one shit left to give for life.  
\--- ---  
Shawn is called in the middle of writing a report for the chief about the escaped convicts in the ferry-- and trying to verbally bedazzle the tale, because there’s no way he won’t try to push this-- by an unknown number. They’re in the police station, by Jules' desk, so Lassie gets everyone to shut up, and Shawn answers his goddamn phone on speaker. _“Mr. Spencer. My name is Agent Coulson of the Strategic Homeland intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division.”_  
Shawn actually perks up. It’s gotta be about Tony-- and then panics, because it’s got to be about Tony, and he’s been acting out of character _and it must be because he finally up and got killed, dammit, Tony._ “Agent,” he replies, carefully, and he applauds himself when neither of those two syllables crack. “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

 _“It has recently come to our attention that you were employed to Mr. Stark for a period in time, and continue to keep in close contact.”_ Shawn can feel the eyes of every police officer in the precinct on him. Jules is openly gaping. And Chief Vick is nodding, like, _it all makes sense now. “Your... career path,”_ Agent Coulson continues, tripping slightly over his words, _“has also come to our attention.”_

“I fail to see how one correlates to the other, sir.” Great, and now even Gus is staring. Shawn’s never polite, and here he is, calling out a man on his bullshit and not even stuttering over the word _sir_.

 _“Considering the two, you must be aware that he’s dying.”_ Shawn just nods, slowly, because he's eard this before, last week, while Gus was out of the room, and Gus sucks in a breath, glaring at Shawn like it’s his fault Tony’s dying. (In a sick, twisted way, that’s probably exactly what’s happening.)  
A new voice breaks into the conversation, halfway through a sentence: _"and I swear to God, Agent, if you’re stealing my friends I will literally terminate any and all contracts with SHIELD and it’s dumbfuck acronym, don’t you even doubt me--”_ before Coulson starts threatening to taze the man into submission and force him to watch Supernanny until Stark’s, quote, _“either begging to die or begging to actually save your own life like we have placed you under house-arrest to do.”_ End quote.

Shawn deadpans, “kinky, Agent,” and, while Tony’s busy calming hysterical giggle fits, he asks to get back to solving a murder and writing a report.

 _“Understood, Mr. Spencer. Tony demands a movie night at your apartment as soon as this is settled: it was literally the only thing he would agree to before he would go about saving his own life. Please give Chief Vick my regards.”_  
She calls out, “Acknowledged, Phil. Now get the hell back to work.” When Shawn hangs up, still letting that last bit sink in, he absently calls out, “thank you. I will take questions after the murder exposé.” He trots out, with Gus close on his heels.  
As soon as the door shuts behind Guster, the precinct bursts into life, an exploding minefield of gossip. Lassiter finally gets around to asking the most prudent question:  
“How long has this been going on? What else is he not telling us? How do we even call ourselves detectives anymore?”  
Well, three most prudent questions.  
\--- ---  
New York would have passed as a blur, if not for the fact that Lassie literally interrupted Shawn while he and Gus were discussing where they would meet Tony next with a text.

Lassie doesn’t text.

It reads, _Tin Can is shooting at aliens in NYC. Turn in CNN._

That was a bad idea. Neither of them can muster the will to look away, because _this could be the end._ Tony could be shot out of the sky, or-- for that one painful moment-- could be swallowed by those whale/ship things and _not_ come exploding out the tail. And then he goes into the portal and almost doesn't come out and there is that single, terrifying moment as Blond Thunder rips off the face plate and _the arc reactor is not glowing, holy Jesus-- there’s something tenacity can’t prevent--_ and then he _sits up_ and Gus and Shawn just go absolutely wild. Everyone’s alive, and Mr. I-cannot-work-on-a-team has a group of lost kittens following him back to his tower.  
\--- ---  
Tony calls later. Two words.  
Shawn calls in sick that day. Coulson was a good man.  
Sometimes, Shawn invited Coulson out drinking, so they could bitch about co-workers. Agent was fond of one Specialist Barton, thought one Jasper needed a good kick in the ass before he was useful, and that Hill and Sitwell needed to get their shit together.

Sometimes Tony would come. They would find the most creative ways to get kicked out of the bar, mostly sober and hysterical with laughter, which with Agent was more of an eye-twitch and a chuckle.

Shawn stayed in and they both sat there in silence, receivers rustling as one left blanket burritos for comfort food or to pee. The consistent whirr and putter told Shawn that Tony holed himself up in the workshop, and that Dummy or ‘Fingers or You were moving around Tony like dogs or small children. It’d be cute, any other time.

Now, it’s just sad.  
\--- ---  
Shawn hangs up, a full 3 hours of rustling and silence and the occasional comment with a “don’t forget to eat”.

He calls JARVIS and asks for him to book plane tickets to New York City. It never happens, because flights coming to and from anywhere remotely near New York have been cancelled or delayed, but he feels better for it.  
\--- ---

Yin comes back with a vengeance. Shawn is pretty much beside himself-- _this was supposed to be over, and hell someone’s going to take the two little dots inside the big swirly things and watch, they’ll target me and use Jules or Gus or Dad or Tony--_ when JARVIS starts sending text alerts to breathe and online receipts for fruit baskets and Indiana Jones memorabilia. Shawn looks up to see the CCTV cameras tracking his every move.  
He has never felt safer over the past few years. He stares one down, salutes sloppily, and mouths, _thanks, Skynet,_ before turning on his heel and walking smartly back to the office.  
(There’s more for JARVIS to monitor from there. Besides, there’s a couch, a TV, and a pile of DVDs there. Shawn can make the most out of another sleepless night.)  
Tony calls later that night, in the middle of a Toxic Avenger marathon. The pure shittiness of this movie series is what endears it so to Shawn’s heart. (In light of recent actual Avengers, though, it’s become a lot less funny. Namely because there have been public records of Steve Rogers, first and secretly only Captain America, being from North Jersey, so in reality he _could have actually_ been the first superhero from New Jersey. It’s debatable. Also because the actual Avengers are always getting shot at or something.)  
But Tony calls, and neither of them speak. Construction noises are filling up the background on Tony’s end, and the cheesy 80s effects of death by toxic mop are swallowing up any noise on Shawn’s end.  
Two and a half hours later, Tony states, _“you should meet the team. They’d like you.”_  
Shawn grunts noncommittally.  
They hang up three hours later, Tony throwing around a soft _“take care of yourself.”_ Like he’s the one to talk, really.  
\--- ---  
Shawn realizes, as he drives to a hippie commune in the middle of Nowheresville to solve a murder, that he never actually told Tony that he did good in New York. They never said anything about New York because they literally said maybe ten words to each other over three hours _and this is his life and these are his life choices. He’s friends with a superhero and is solving a murder at a fucking hippie commune._ Gus is chattering away in one ear as he pulls out his phone and has JARVIS direct him to Tony’s voicemail.  
\--- ---  
 _"Tony, you better milk the 'I flew a nuke into space to save New York' thing for all its worth, because if you don't, I will never forgive your selfless act of bravery. Braveity? Braverism? Whatever. ...”_  
\--- ---  
Shawn is in the hospital, watching his dad try to (gently, you can’t claim he didn't try) talk his creepy nurse down from asking for a date or, hell, proposing. He grins, brightly and still empty, tells Henry to deal with this on his own, trotting out of the room and of the hospital. He turns his phone back on to find a few new voice mails-- from Gus and Jules, typical; Lassie’s new, that’s odd-- but Shawn supposes that his respect for Henry as a former cop and sympathy for getting shot at trumps his palpable loathing for everything Shawn has ever said (and omitted, let’s be real) and done.  
But-- hey, there we go, there’s the message he wants to hear-- there’s a voice mail from Tony and a few texts from JARVIS and Pepper. There’s also an email that’s showing up-- from Tony, “RE: shawn i swear to god if you open this i will tear out your soul and sit it in front of fury during debriefs this is for your dad do you hear me young man”  
Shawn has met Fury before. It was quite possibly the most terrifying thing he has done, to date, besides watch a psycho serial killer with a fixation on the other serial killer who has a fixation on him try to inject his best friend with boat wax. And because it was terrifying, he ran his mouth, and started reading out his analysis of a man with a trench coat, an eye-patch, and a licence to kill, which did not help his position at all. 10/10 will never, ever do that again, willingly, and Shawn isn't nearly curious enough to come to the point of masochism.  
He forwards the email to his dad, deletes it, and listens to the voicemails.  
\--- ---  
 _“... I'm sending you a corny 90s fruit basket, but not to the hospital. Nor am I showing up to the hospital, because I already spend more than enough time dodging medical for my own injuries. If you need anything, call- you won't, because I know you, but call. ...”_  
\--- ---


End file.
